Sometimes I fantasize about living completely in his world, like he wanted. To just give up myself and be with him twenty-four hours a day. To make love five times a day, cook, ride, fish, play. If it was only not so one-sided on his part, I would have happily moved in, and surrendered to it all. But there was no balance. I was just a thing, an object, to be on his arm, on his bike, on his boat, a possession. He didn't care to get to know me as a person. And knowing that if he didn't get his way, there was hell to pay, was not an option for me. I respect myself more than that.